String
by Rinaway
Summary: Just what did Pam mean by Eric "pulls good string"? Eric/Pam smutty flashback; brief mention of Eric/Sookie. A little bit kinky.


"**String"**  
>EricPam; mentions Eric/Sookie. Set after the first Pam and Sookie scene in Season 4.

Sookie Stackhouse was a bit of an idiot, Pam thought. The pretty little fairy had just left Fangtasia, and was still being resistant about becoming Eric's. Really, Eric didn't take pets often, and almost never seemed to particularly care about their wellbeing when he did. Sookie should be very flattered, but instead she seemed annoyed. Perhaps her maker enjoyed her feistiness; _he'd always relished a fighter, especially in the bedroom_, her thoughts continued. _Or the bed chamber. Basement. Whatever._

She smiled wide as she remembered the incident she'd referenced earlier, in her conversation with Little Miss Stubborn.

"He pulls good string."

While Sookie had been referring to Eric manipulating her like a puppet, Pam had turned it into a double entendre that her maker would have cottoned onto instantly. But it had sailed right over Sookie's head. Evidently, Compton was as boring in the sack as he was in the face, and had kept his sex with the telepath decidedly vanilla. How pitiful.

-

It was the late 1960's, and they were sharing a very kind couple in an old log cabin home in Vermont. While their taste in home décor left something to be desired, and the wife's closet was a flat-out tragedy, they were pretty affluent blood bags, and had kept Pam and Eric both fed and entertained for a few weeks now. Now they were barely human, and what has left had been glamoured halfway to the wrong side of sanity by Eric. This was no great loss; their already feeble minds were already soaked in narcotics before the vampires had come along, and that had simply made them easy targets.

During the day, they kept Clyde and Candy tied up and drugged so they wouldn't try anything stupid while she and her maker went to ground. Feeling greedy on one particular morning and ignoring Eric's sidelong glance, she took a deep swallow off the wife's femoral artery, just as Eric flooded her veins with an opiate. Pam could taste the drug and it's effect in her system as they settled into the basement for the sunrise, and thought it kind of reminded her of what being drunk had felt like.

Pam woke up groggy the following evening, almost hung over. She was aware that she wasn't where she'd died for the day, and that her maker wasn't close by. Then, like an animal in a trap, she tensed. She tugged, but her hands were bound by silver wrapped in cloth- enough to weaken her, but not to burn her. Her ankles were similarly done up. She snarled, then tried to pull herself free with the brute force of what strength hadn't been sapped by the silver, but couldn't move. The couple's funny little duvet- a futon-was behind her; she realized that she was resting on it. And Eric was nowhere to be found.

She called his name, with no response. Then she began to panic. She was vulnerable, now.

Just as she began to struggle, she shrieked; the futon flipped up and against the wall, so that if she'd been able to stand, she would have been. However, the motion had pulled her snapped her restraints even tighter, and she couldn't move an inch. She wriggled and yanked at her limbs, trying to wrench them free. Then in a sudden flash, Eric appeared before her, his long lean body wrapped in a red silk robe with black trim. It had been the only thing worth robbing from the husband's closet.

She cursed him under her breath. It was unfair that he could shut off his end of their bond whenever he wished, especially at times like this, where for fleeting seconds, she'd actually been worried about him.

He broke the silence with a look that any other might assume was angry, but she knew to be edged with amusement. Still, he kept his tone harsh.

"You were a bad girl," he tsked, shaking his head as he drew a single long, elegant finger down her cheek. "You fed from her, when you knew I wouldn't approve. It left you weakened, and you put us both at risk with your actions."

She looked him in the eye, aware that she'd done wrong but knowing the game now, knowing he adored her defiance. She rubbed her thighs together, slick already with the heat in his voice and the anticipation. 

He wouldn't beat or bite her- he'd tease.

His path continued down her body, pulling the buttons off of her stolen ankle-length white cotton chemise. She had nothing on underneath it, and her nipples peaked as they hit the basement air, the garment catching on her chains as he disrobed her. Then he followed his finger with his tongue, swirling over her hipbones, nibbling the undersides of her breasts, nipping at her bellybutton- never touching where she ached to be touched. She writhed and bit out epithets and praises, curses and threats, but he wouldn't yield. As she teetered on the brink of sanity, he disappeared behind the futon, and she heard the chain clink as it loosened. Instantly, her wrists rushed to her apex, fingers slipping- and just as quickly, they were hoisted back up. She made a feral noise, beyond human now; but he was pulling the strings now, she his marionette and under his complete control. He'd let her touch herself for a blink of an eye, then yank her back, never letting her plunge off that glorious cliff to oblivion. She ended up howling like a goddamned Were, baying her protests. When a single red tear dripped down her cheek, borne of frustration, the ties fell away and he had her pinned, sheathed inside of her. His arms encircled her and pulled her hair as they set a furious rhythm. He groaned as she shattered, and joined her a beat later, nuzzling her neck as she sobbed his name into his shoulder. He pulled away wincing as she started battering him around the head and neck, shielding his face as though her kitten blows could actually do damage. They couldn't, of course, but they were helping her regain her pride.

"Fucking-_**asshole!**_-_worst-maker-__**ever**_-!"

"Shh, shh, shh," he admonished. "I command you to-"

She seized up with something akin to hatred in her eyes. She hated to be commanded.

Then he smiled wickedly, and all was forgiven.

"-go raid that woman's closet for a new garment and meet me in the den. I believe our hosts will be passing on tonight."

Then he followed her up the basement stairs, close on her heels, and cheekily pinched her ass on the way up.

-

_No_, Pam thought. Sookie _really doesn't know what she's missing out on._ _He pulls fantastic string.  
><em> 


End file.
